


Tea for two and two for tea

by tinsnip



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: And teasing, Cultural exchange, Gen, Tea Ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: "Now, tell me, Doctor: when does the phrase 'coffee, tea, or me' enter into things?"He paused in the act of pouring, staring at Garak, whose expression was innocent. That didn't, of course, mean anything.





	Tea for two and two for tea

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a collaborative prompt-based project on tumblr.

"Now, tell me, Doctor: when does the phrase 'coffee, tea, or me' enter into things?"

He paused in the act of pouring, staring at Garak, whose expression was innocent. That didn't, of course, mean anything.

"It doesn't. It never enters into anything to do with high tea." He frowned. "Where on earth did you run across that expression, anyway?"

"In your holosuite program." Garak eyed the little pastries thoughtfully. "The young woman on the airplane said it to you. While bending over in a very determined way, I thought. Is that green one mint?"

"What? Yes, it's mint, but it's for later. Garak, don't pay much attention to what happens in that program. It's not at all representative of the time period."

"Dear me. And here I thought you strove for historical authenticity."

"Well… I mean, I do, but… it's not really that—"

"—kind of program, yes, so I have been told. Tell me, do you also get propositioned when you're adventuring with the Chief?"

"I declare this line of enquiry terminated."

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that you've only brought this up to embarrass me in the first place. Now, do you want tea or not?"

Garak blinked at him. "Why else would I be here?"

"All right. Then pay attention."

Garak steepled his hands and watched with fascination as Julian tipped the boiling water into the teapot and swirled it. He couldn't help but add a bit of showmanship to it—a little flair, why not—once, twice, and _there_ they were. Now to pour it back out into the little dish he'd set aside for the purpose… without spilling a drop, very good.

"What was the point of that?"

"It warms the pot. Here: feel." The pot was indeed lovely and warm, and Garak took it in both hands at first tentatively, then with a smile.

"How pleasant."

"I've always thought so."

"Is that the only purpose it serves?"

"Well, it cleans the pot, of course. I don't really need to do that; I clean this pot before I put it away. Still, it just doesn't feel _proper_ unless I do it, do you know what I mean?"

Garak was nodding. "I understand completely. What now?"

"Now we add the tea."

"I thought you were making the tea."

"Sorry, that's—I suppose that's confusing, isn't it. One can also call the dried leaves 'tea.' So I'll add the tea leaves to the pot—here, take a moment, smell them." He held the handful of leaves out for Garak's inspection.

Garak's nostrils flared, and his mouth opened for just a moment to pull the scent in over his so'c. Julian smiled at that. The Cardassians had come out rather lucky there. The idea of a whole new dimension to tea was intriguing… well, one couldn't have everything, and Julian got a lot more out of music than Garak did, so all in all it probably worked out.

"It smells very nice." Garak blinked appreciatively.

"Mmm. It's a nice blend, isn't it?"

"Certainly nicer than that Earl Grey business."

"Pfft, that's not hard to manage. All right, in they go. Now some nice fresh boiling water…" He poured carefully, and Garak peered into the tea pot as the water level rose.

"And now we wait?"

"And now we wait. And no, you may not have a cookie yet."

That got him a mild blink, but Garak chose not to pursue the issue. Instead he examined his cup with curiosity, running one finger along the gilt rim.

"This is very delicate."

"Tell me about it. When I was a child, I wasn't allowed to touch the fine china. I was much too clumsy."

"Dear, dear. Did many cups meet their end at your hands?"

"Not too many." Three wasn't many, not really.

"Hmph." One corner of Garak's mouth lifted, and he held the cup up to the light. "Goodness, I can almost see through it."

"Very fancy, right? Now, look, there's a proper way to hold it."

"Ah?"

"Don't put your fingers through the loop. That's gauche."

"I'm not supposed to use the handle?"

"Oh, no, go ahead and use it, but do it like this. See, you pinch it between thumb and fingers. That's right."

Garak frowned. "I'm concerned I'll spill. If there is ever actually tea, that is." He let the cup wobble, as if to illustrate, and Julian lifted a hand to steady it.

"You can hold your little finger out if you like. That'll help you balance. Just don't stick it straight up. That's—"

"—gauche?"

"You're so quick."

Garak turned the cup around in his hands, expression meditative. "Where did you come by these pretty things?"

"Gift from my Aunt Fatima. She gave them to me when I left for my first assignment."

"Was she worried there wouldn't be any cups on the frontier?"

"Oh, you're a laugh riot."

"I try."

"No, I think it was actually her way of saying, 'Congratulations, Julian, you've grown up.'"

"How wrong she was…"

"Not too late to deny you tea."

"I retract my statement. You are aged and wise."

"I think I'm just going to stop listening to you all together. All right, I think we have tea. I don't like mine particularly strong. How do you like yours?"

"All I know is that I do _not_ like what comes out of the replicator."

"Yes, that's very strong. Very well, then, we'll keep it light. Here, put the strainer on your cup, please."

"So I don't end up with leaves in my cup. How clever."

"I suppose it is… I've never really thought about it…" He poured carefully, not wanting to splash, enjoying how the amber liquid trickled into the cup with a happy sort of sound. "Doesn't that smell lovely?"

"Mmm. Yes, it does." Garak had closed his eyes and was inhaling with every evidence of enjoyment, pausing to sip the air now and then. "It fills the room."

"Makes one feel as if one isn't in a metal box in space for a little while, right?"

"What an interesting way of putting things." Garak's eyes opened, and he blinked at his cup. "Do I drink now?"

"Wait for me." He poured out the rest of the tea for himself, then set the teapot on its rest between them where they could admire it. It was a pretty thing, all pale porcelain and gold rimming. Very old-fashioned. Then again, so was Aunt Fatima, sometimes.

Garak was eyeing his cup dubiously. "Not much tea for all that effort."

"It's not _effort,_ not really. It's… it's a ritual. One savours all the little steps."

Garak pursed his lips, nodding. "I can understand that. Now, may I drink?"

"Not yet." At the roll of the eyes this provoked, Julian grinned and held up a hand. "Now, now, none of that. I need to know if you want milk."

"Now how would I know?"

"Let's try a little…"

"Is this the cow secretion?"

"This is it, yes. It makes things a bit milder. And you have a sweet tooth, so I think I'll add… mmm, yes, one lump of sugar." It was a bit of a delicate maneuver, but he managed a successful _plunk._

"What tiny tongs."

"They're something, aren't they?"

"I have a similar pair for removing stray threads."

"And I for removing foreign bodies from wounds."

"Dear me, I hope you don't mix them up."

"I try not to."

"Don't you want any cow secretion?"

"I take my tea black, thanks."

"That's not black. It's amber."

"It's just an expression. All right, now, if you like you can stir—no, not all _fast_ like that, really, Garak, I'm starting to despair of you a bit." Garak shot him a look, and he grinned. "Shall I teach you the proper way to do it?"

"By all means." Sarcasm dripped from every word. "Although I'm having some trouble believing there's actually a proper way to _stir."_

"Cross my heart." He matched phrase to gesture. "Apparently it has something to do with not disturbing the flavour of the tea. Look, this is how: one doesn't stir, one simply… folds." Around and around, _don't clink, Julian,_ said Aunt Fatima in his head. _There's no rush. Take your time._

Garak watched, frowning. "This is very complicated."

"You're telling me. Took me years to get it all down pat." There, that would do it. Aunt Fatima would be proud. He set the spoon down across the top of Garak's saucer.

"No wonder you don't do it often."

"Almost never. Only for special company."

Garak's gaze flicked up at that, and Julian smiled at him.

"Well? Aren't you going to drink? Don't want it to get cold."

"Oh? Am I finally permitted to do so?"

"Not sure what you're waiting for, honestly."

With raised brow ridges, Garak lifted the cup as instructed and sipped, and smiled, eyes closing.

Julian leaned forward, grinning. "Lovely, isn't it? It is, isn't it!" He half-wanted to bounce in his chair, but that would be very much at odds with the image he wanted to portray. _Grown-ups don't bounce._ Too bad for the grown-ups, honestly.

"It's delicious." Garak opened his eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."

He brimmed with satisfaction. "You're welcome, Garak. Now, can I tempt you with a scone? Lots of clotted cream to go around."

"I think I shall restrain myself to one helping of cow secretion today, thank you. That mint cookie might be more to my taste."

"If you're sure. Here you go."

"Thank you." Garak lifted it to his mouth, then stopped halfway and flicked a glance at Julian. "Is there a ritual to go with this, as well?"

Julian rested his chin on his hands. "Do you want there to be?"

"Not particularly."

"You're in luck then."

"How nice." Garak bit into the cookie, smiled, then cast a look at Julian's cup. "Aren't you going to have any tea?"

"Oh!" How silly—it was going to get cold—but he'd been having so much fun watching Garak he'd nearly forgotten. "I believe I shall. I've earned it, after all."

"Have you? How so?"

He held up a hand as he sipped, enjoying both the flavour of the tea and the irritation on Garak's face, then smacked his lips appreciatively. "Oh, that's lovely."

"Smacking one's lips is not refined, my dear doctor."

"I won't tell Aunt Fatima if you won't."

"You were going to tell me how you've earned your tea."

"Oh, that. Well, it's a lot of work, teaching someone about how to _properly_ make tea. I feel I deserve a reward." He sipped again, shook his head. "Really, I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever catch on." He blinked innocently.

Garak frowned at him. "Is that so."

"It is."

"Mmm." Another meditative steepling of grey fingers. "Tell me, Doctor, have you ever learned the proper way to eat kalic roe?"

"Can't say it rings a bell."

"Then it will be my pleasure to teach you." Garak nodded firmly. "Next week."

"By all means." _And my goose will be cooked, no doubt._ Oh, well, it had been worth it—and continued to be, as Garak delicately raised the cup to his lips and sipped.

"What do you think? An experience worth repeating?"

Now a demure blink. "Perhaps you wouldn't care to repeat your invitation to someone so slow to catch on."

"For you, I'll make an exception."

"Then it would be my pleasure, Doctor Bashir."

"Thank you, Mister Garak."

 

**Author's Note:**

> (1.  The so'c, pronounced "sohsh", is a sense organ on the underside of the tongue. In Human terms, it enhances both scent and taste. A Cardassian would tell you this is a facile and inaccurate explanation, but being Human, it's the best I can do. Sorry!)
> 
> (2. Aunt Fatima is on loan from KanarandTarkaleanTea's marvellous and thoroughly enjoyable [A Handful of Dates](http://archiveofourown.org/works/762779?view_full_work=true). Thank you, dear!)


End file.
